


Afternoon at the museum

by iarrannme



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Night at the Museum (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Fake Character Death, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Mild Language, Missing Scene, Smithsonian Institution, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iarrannme/pseuds/iarrannme
Summary: Larry got more excitement in his life than he’d ever wanted years ago in his other job – dinosaur skeletons coming to life while HYDRA goons tried to steal the glowing thingamajig that made it happen wasn’t even the weird part, the weird part was SHIELD turning it into a whitewashed and highly inaccurate movie as some sort of “nothing this flamboyant could be a coverup” maneuver.  Nick had grown up to devote his life to protecting the world from the weirdness; Larry spent his career rotating among the Smithsonian Institute’s many locations.  Life was great, until Nick disappeared and things went haywire at the Howling Commandos exhibit …Or, a missing scene from CA:TWS showing why Stan Lee doesn’t get fired.
Relationships: Larry Daley & Nick Daley, Larry Daley & Stan Lee, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nick Fury & Nick Fury's Father
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78
Collections: Excellent Completed Gen & Platonic Fiction, I Needed a Laugh Today, Marvel OC Fanfiction, Outstanding Outsider POVs, The Outsiders and the Avengers (Marvel Cinematic Universe)





	Afternoon at the museum

**Smithsonian Institution, Security Overwatch Station**

That pretty redheaded technician had gotten the monitors all repaired and upgraded with impressive speed, doing sections in sequence so that Larry was never completely blind and arguing laughingly about baseball with him the whole time. She’d left ten minutes ago and he’d resigned himself to the remainder of a mostly-dull day when his door opened and Stan shambled in, dropping into a chair with none of his usual care.

“You ok?” Larry asked, letting his attention run over the entrance-hall monitors.

“I am _so_ fired,” Stan mumbled, staring straight ahead.

Stan liked to spin yarns, but he didn’t manufacture professional drama. “What’s up?”

Stan dropped his face into his hands, then straightened up and stared at Larry. “ _We_ are so fired.” He flapped a hand at the monitors. “How did you not – have you been _watching_?”

Stung, Larry muttered something about repairs and technicians who didn’t mind giving an old man the time of day.

Stan smirked, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Check the monitors for the Howling Commandos exhibit. Maybe I was hallucinating. That’d be nice.”

He hadn’t been. It wasn’t.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Larry was indignantly insisting to the third in a succession of increasingly higher-level boss types that the technician’s work order absolutely _had_ been in the system and he _had_ checked her ID, Nina Rickman, when the IT troubleshooter’s sudden strangled gasp and huge eyes caught everyone’s attention.

“I, uh, the monitors for that section may have been offline in here, but the recordings were still, uh, recorded,” she said. “Replaying on the big screen now.”

A large, well-muscled white man in a hoodie and baseball cap walked calmly into the exhibit fifteen minutes before any visitors should have had access. He pulled a small gadget out of his pocket and set it out of sight behind the mannequin wearing Captain America’s costume, then efficiently but carefully removed the costume.

“Aren’t there alarms on those?” growled Boss Type #2.

Boss Type #1 sighed. “Pressure and light-exposure alarms in the mannequins,” he said, “but they’re wireless. Wanna bet that thing he left is a signal jammer?”

“Get the bomb squad. They check before we touch it.”

“Wait til you see the rest of this,” said the troubleshooter. “I don’t think it’s a bomb.”

On-screen, the man set the costume aside – “On the floor! He put it _on the_ _floor_!” wailed the exhibit director, and might have gone on if not interrupted as the man began to remove his own clothes, back to the camera.

“What the –”

“No backpacks allowed,” said Larry, and every head swiveled to him. He shrugged. “He’s gotta get it outta there somehow.”

“Either that or this is one hell of a kink –”

They watched in silence except for the exhibit director’s groans as the man put the costume on, then replaced his clothing over it. He set the sneakers he’d been wearing inconspicuously under a bench and shoved his feet into the boots. The exhibit director swore softly.

“So now we gotta start strip-searching everyone who leaves?” Boss Type #2’s mood was not improving.

“Never gonna fly,” said Boss Type #3 firmly, “but there sure is gonna be a security rev-” She broke off as the man turned and walked directly towards the security camera, stopping a few feet away where the lighting was best.

He pulled back his hood, removed his baseball cap, and stared straight at the camera, then turned his head back and forth, making sure his well-lit face was clearly visible. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, retrieved his driver’s license, and held it up close to the camera. Then he scribbled on the back of a visitor’s guide and held the note up: “Need to borrow this. Will return. Thanks.” He raised his finger to his lips, mouthed “shhhhhh,” nodded gravely to the camera, and walked off.

There was dead silence in the office for a breath, then –

“Captain fucking _America_ just –”

“He’s _walking_ in it, he’s _bending_ it, he’s stepping on the _floor_ in it, he’s gonna sweat and expose it to light and uuuggghh it’s _humid_ today and –”

“Oh my god I just watched Captain America strip, I just saw America’s ass –”

“Now we know why they were called the Howling _Commandos_ –”

“Are we seriously calling the cops on Captain America –”

“We are _not_ getting fired for this,” Larry muttered to Stan.

Boss Type #3 held up her hand. “Someone get Dr. Baker into a chair before she passes out. Standard measures taken at the exhibit?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Larry said briskly, throwing the live image to the main screen. A sign had been taped to the naked mannequin: “Temporarily removed for cleaning. Please help us preserve our history – do not touch exhibits!”

“Who outside this room knows it was stolen?” Shrugs and shaken heads all around. “Can’t keep this hidden long and it would be wrong to try. But Captain America trusted us; I’ll trust him, at least a little way. If anyone has a better suggestion, speak up.” She waited a beat. “All right. No police, no bomb squad, no press, no leaks.” She looked at Boss Type #2. “Graham, figure out a quiet contact with SHIELD. Say nothing to them yet.”

Larry hoped no one saw his flinch. _He_ had a quiet contact with SHIELD, all right, but not one he wanted to mention. All he knew was that he hadn’t gotten the gift subscription to _Sky & Telescope_ that would mean the news of his son’s death was real. He didn’t let himself glance at the bag under his desk that held the black hoodie, sunglasses and lighter bought in cash. As long as the bag was there, and the other one in the car, and the fingerprint-locked box of who-knew-what in the house, as long as the mail stayed innocuous, Nick might show up to claim them.

Fortunately, someone else spoke up. “Something’s off, why wouldn’t he just wear one of his usual uniforms?”

“If he wanted to see it up close he could have just asked, we’d have loved to show him the restoration work.” Dr. Baker sounded caught between mournful and insulted.

“The kind of person who makes sure we know who took it would have gone through channels if he could have,” the IT troubleshooter pointed out. “He needed it kept quiet, and he needed it fast. I bet we don’t have to wait long before something big, nasty and obvious happens and he’s right in the middle of it. Just turn on CNN and wait.”

Dr. Baker looked ready to rip her hair out.

Larry sympathized. To think he’d moved over here from Natural History all those years ago in hopes of _avoiding_ further adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Dr. Baker. She and the other restoration experts at the Museum Conservation Institute portion of the Smithsonian were supposed to be the main characters here, but once I realized Night at the Museum’s Larry had a son named Nick and Stan Lee’s security guard probably would have told a fellow guard first, well…
> 
> Don’t worry. Once Steve gets out of the hospital, he personally returns the old uniform, apologizes to the restorers for taking it into combat, and offers to answer any questions they have about it. They’re mostly angry about having to remove all the stains (again) and the idiot who shot the priceless historical artifact, except for one junior restorer who’s super excited because now the garment has Even More History.
> 
> 2/22/20: Someone's subscribed directly to this work, which, cool, thanks, but I'm not planning on adding any chapters to it. If you want to be notified when I write something (awesome!), click on my name below the story title and subscribe directly to me rather than using the work-specific subscribe button. :)


End file.
